Lab Rats Mini Stories
by BigTimeRusher12
Summary: Mini stories involving various tasks, decisions, and memories. SOME of these possibly happen after "Which Father Knows Best?" Some chapters involve my OC, Emily Davenport. Some MAY involve Hannah too.
1. Broken Voice?

**I DO NOT OWN LAB RATS.**

 **Broken Voice?**

Emily was in her bed watching TV when her dad came up. "Hey, baby girl." She nodded. He put a hand to her head. "You're not warm anymore. How do you feel?"

She typed in her ePhone and showed it to her dad. _"I feel better. I wish I could talk."_ Thankfully, she had an app just for this situation.

"I know you do, but is so nice _not_ having you talk." Emily shoved him playfully.

" _Has it been a week yet?"_

"Now, baby girl, you heard what the doctor said. No talking for a week."

" _HAS IT BEEN A WEEK?"_

"No. Just a couple more days."

She sighed and gave her best puppy dog eyes. "Aw, no. Not the puppy dog eyes. Emily, it's just a couple more days. Can't you handle that?"

" _Fine."_

He went out and then said to himself, "Yeah, fine. Absolutely fine."

"How's Emily doing?" Tasha asked her husband as soon as he came downstairs.

"Driving me nuts! 'Has it been a week yet? Has it been a week yet?' I swear, if she asks me that _one_ more time, I'll have a mental breakdown."

"Don't worry, sweetie. I'm sure when the week's up, she'll stop pestering you… and me."

"I hope you're right."

The next day, Emily woke up to the sun shining through her window. She stretched before she threw the covers off and she got up. She grabbed her glasses from her nightstand and put them on. She put on her slipper boots and exited her room. She went downstairs and greeted everyone. "Hey everybody." She got real excited at what she just did. "I can talk! I can talk!"

Her siblings groaned. Leo said, "Great. A great week _without_ talking is ruined." Tasha smacked Leo on the arm and Emily laughed.

She sat down at the bar and Tasha gave her a plate of two pancakes drenched in syrup. Tasha knew she loved them drenched in syrup. Donald came downstairs. "Morning everyone."

"Morning, sweetie." Tasha kissed his cheek.

Emily said, "Morning, Daddy. Guess who can talk. That's right…" She pointed at herself and said, "Me!"

"Great." Emily glared at him. "I mean… great!" She rolled her eyes.

Chase came upstairs, coughing and sneezing. "Morning guys."

Tasha went up to him. "Sweetie, are you getting sick? You don't look to good."

"I don't–" Sniffle. "–feel too good either."

She felt his head. "And you're warm." She turned to her husband. "Donald, come here."

He did so. "Chase, buddy, you don't look so good. You're pale and–" He looked in his son's eyes. "–your eyes are bloodshot. I'm cancelling training for today."

"Yes!" Donald looked at Chase and Chase just smiled and shrugged.

Later, it was just Donald and Chase at home—the others were at school and Tasha got called out for work. Chase ran down the stairs, looking panicked. Donald looked up from his place at his desk and saw Chase with a panicked expression on his face. "What's wrong, Chase?"

He tried his best to talk, but it came out hoarse. "Mr. Davenport! My voice is broken!"

"Your voice isn't broken, Chase. You're probably just getting laryngitis."

He rubbed at his throat. "My throat is killing me!"

Donald stood up and walked toward Chase. "Okay, Chase. Let me see. Open up." He obeyed and opened his mouth as wide as it could go. "Wow. Your throat's _really_ red."

Chase replied sarcastically, "No. Really?" That resulted in a coughing fit.

"Hey, buddy. Take it easy. Take it easy." He rubbed Chase's back.

Chase buried his head in Donald's chest and tried not to cry, but he failed. "I don't feel good, Mr. Davenport. My nose, my ears, my chest, my throat. Especially my throat."

"It sounds like you _do_ have laryngitis."

"Aww man!" That resulted in another coughing fit.

"Stop talking. You need to rest your voice." Chase nodded. "Tell you what. You can sleep with me tonight, okay?"

Chase nodded. "Sounds weird how you said it, but okay." Donald smiled and kissed his head.

That night, Chase was sleeping in between Donald and Tasha. Suddenly, he sat up and had a coughing fit. He rubbed his throat and said in between coughs, "Daddy. Daddy!"

Donald woke up to Chase coughing and asking for him. He turned to Chase. He rubbed his back. "What's wrong, buddy?"

Chase put his hands around his throat like a choke hold. "Your throat hurts?" He nodded. "Can you talk?" He shook his head. Donald put a hand to his head. "No school for you." Chase sighed. "Let me see your throat. Open up." Donald grabbed a little flashlight from his nightstand and turned it on. Chase opened his mouth and Donald took a look. "Looks like you need your tonsils out." Chase looked petrified. "I'll call a doctor tomorrow. You need to go to the hospital to have them removed."

Chase managed to speak, but it was all hoarse. "I thought–" He coughed. "I thought we _couldn't_ go to the hospital because of the risk of our bionics–"

"True, but I can't do it myself. I'm not a doctor. This is meant to be done by a professional."

"W-what's meant to done by a professional?"

"Surgery to get your tonsils out."

Chase's eyes widened. "No!" He hugged Donald. "Daddy, no!"

"Chase," Donald let go and locked eyes with his son. He said, "it's a simple procedure. You have nothing to worry about. Besides, one of my employees is a doctor there and he knows about your bionics. I'll try to get him as the surgeon."

Chase nodded. "O-Okay."

Donald put his hands on Chase's face. "You have _nothing_ to worry about." He kissed Chase's head. "Now, go back to sleep." Chase did so, even though he was really worried.

The next day, Chase was in a room and was lying in a hospital bed, waiting to be taken into surgery. It was just him and Donald in the room. "This stinks! I'm scared, Daddy."

"I know you are, buddy, but you're gonna be better soon. Your throat's gonna be sore for a couple days, but you get to eat all the ice cream you want."

"Really?" Donald nodded. "Well, I _do_ like ice cream… even though it's not healthy."

He put a hand on Chase's shoulder and laughed. "That's my boy."

The doctor came in. As promised to Chase, Donald got him the one that knows about his bionics. "All right, Chase. Are you ready?"

Chase said to Donald, "It's Dr. Hudson. The one that knows about our bionics."

"Told you I would get him for you. I wouldn't let you down, so here he is. Trust me, Chase. You're in good hands."

He hugged Donald. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Chase let go and laid back down. Donald kissed his head. "I'll see you later, buddy. I love you."

"I love you too, Daddy." Donald smiled and went out.

Dr. Hudson and his two assistants came in. Dr. Hudson put the arms up on Chase's bed and the other two unlocked the brakes of the bed. Dr. Hudson asked, "Are you ready, Chase?"

"I guess." He took a deep breath. "Let's do this." Dr. Hudson nodded and they wheeled Chase out and to the operating room. He noticed Mr. Davenport standing by the doors, in blue doctor scrubs. "Mr. Davenport? What're you doing here? And what are you wearing?"

"I asked if I could stay with you until you fell asleep, and I got the clearance to. I have to wear these ridiculous scrubs, though."

"Thank you."

Chase got wheeled into the operating room and Donald was right beside him. Chase had a needle placed in his arm and a tube in his nose so he could breathe. Donald held Chase's hand and stroked his hair until he fell asleep. "You know, if these scrubs had my name on them, I wouldn't mind."

Dr. Hudson rolled his eyes. "They're all yours." He looked down at Chase and he was asleep. "Okay. He's asleep."

"All right. That's my cue to go." Donald kissed Chase's head before leaving.

Meanwhile at school, Adam, Bree, Leo and Emily were hanging out in the main hallway. Emily said, "I'd never thought I'd say this, but I am _so_ glad to be back in school."

"Why?" asked Leo.

"Because not being in school for a week was boring."

"Again… why? Being _not_ in school _is_ fun."

"Well, _that_ part was fun, but being stuck at home all week wasn't." Leo's phone beeped, signaling he got a text.

 **To: Leo**

 **From: Big D**

 **Come 2 the hospital. Chase's out of surgery.**

"Who is it, Leo?" asked Emily.

"Big D. **'Come 2 the hospital. Chase's out of surgery.'** "

"I didn't even know Chase needed surgery."

Bree said, "I hope he's okay."

Leo slung his backpack over his shoulder. "Let's go." They ran out of the school and Bree sped to the hospital.

When they got to the hospital, they ran in. "Mr. Davenport!" yelled Bree as they ran up to him.

"Guys, guys, guys, he's okay. He's fine."

"You said he needed surgery. Why'd he need surgery?" asked Leo.

"He just needed his tonsils out."

"Huh?" asked Adam.

Emily tried explaining it simply to him. "His throat really, and the doctors fixed it."

"Ohhh." She shook her head. Really, Adam?

"Anyway, the doctor said we can see Chase now."

"Where's Tasha?" asked Emily.

"Right here." They turned around and Tasha walked up to them. "Donald, I got a text saying to come to the hospital. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. We all are. Chase needed surgery and got out about five minutes ago. We were just gonna go see him. Come on." They all went down the hall to the elevators and piled in.

When on the desired floor, they went down the hall to Chase's room. They entered his room and he was sleeping. Adam and Leo sat on the couch, Bree sat on the floor and leaned her back against the couch, Emily sat on the floor by Chase's bed, and Tasha and Donald took a seat in the chairs on both sides of the bed.

Adam and Leo were playing 20 questions—although with Adam, it'll probably be _100_ questions. Bree was texting on her phone, Emily was playing a game on her phone, Tasha was reading a book, and Donald was doing… something. He was actually staring off into space. His stomach growled and it was loud. Everyone looked at him. Tasha giggled. "Are you hungry, Donald?"

"Maybe a little."

"A little? That's the loudest growl I've ever heard." He blushed. She got up. "All right," she kissed his cheek and said, "I'm gonna get you something to eat. Do you guys want anything?"

Adam, Bree, Emily and Leo got up and followed Tasha out. She turned and asked, "Donald, you coming?"

"No, I'll stay here. Can you just bring me back something?"

She nodded. "Sure." She shut the door and left.

His stomach growled again and he honestly felt like he was going to throw up. He held it back for now. He didn't feel good all morning… and food was the last thing he wanted to think about.

A groan was heard from behind him and he turned around. "Chase." He went over to Chase.

"Mr. Davenport."

"Yes, Chase?"

"My throat hurts."

He kissed Chase's head. "The doctor said that'll be gone in a couple of days."

Chase nodded. Donald closed eyes and let out a little groan. "Are you okay, Mr. Davenport?"

He was snapped out of his trance. "Huh? Oh yeah. I'm– I'm fine."

"Okay. Whatever you say." Donald rolled his eyes.

"Where'd everybody go?"

"To get something to eat."

"You didn't wanna get something to eat? You weren't hungry?"

"I'm hungry, but Tasha's bringing me back something."

His stomach growled yet again. Chase laughed and said, "Well, by the sounds of your stomach, you better eat something _soon._ "

"Well, I can see you're feeling better."

"Much. It's hard to talk, though. Plus, my throat really hurts."

"Yeah, well," he grabbed a tray with a bowl of ice cream and set it on Chase's lap. He said, "eat your ice cream. It'll make your throat feel better." Chase nodded and shoved a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth.

A little while later, everyone was in Chase's room, hanging out and doing their own thing.

"How do you feel, Chase?" asked Emily.

"Better. My throat's sore, but I feel better." She smiled and went back to her phone.

Donald was breathing heavy, shallow breaths. Tasha noticed and looked over at him. She set her book down and walked over to him. "Donald?" She put a hand on his shoulder. "You okay?" The kids looked up. "Donald? You look like you're about to throw up."

Emily said, "No, no, no, no."

Donald couldn't hold it back anymore and threw up all over the floor… and got it on someone else too. Emily threw her hands in the air and was, well… disgusted, even though she knew her dad couldn't help it. He _looked_ sick since the kids arrived at the hospital. Donald coughed and kept throwing up.

"Eww!" exclaimed Bree. Bree was trying not to throw up herself. She _does not_ like blood _or_ vomit.

"Gross!" exclaimed Leo.

Donald stopped throwing up and caught his breath. He was breathing heavy, shallow breaths. Tasha rubbed his back and he was shaking and crying. He absolutely _hates_ throwing up

Later, two nurses were in Chase's room—one was cleaning up the vomit, Emily was in the bathroom changing because she got vomited on, and Donald was lying on the other bed while the other nurse was checking him out. She was checking his pulse via his wrist. She looked at her watch and let go of his wrist. "Okay, your pulse seems normal…" She took the thermometer out of his mouth and looked at it. "And you don't have a fever. You probably just have the 24 hour bug that's been going around."

He nodded and let out a sigh. "All right. Well, I hate being sick, but I just gotta make the best of it."

She smiled and patted his shoulder. "Okay." He smiled back and then she left.

Tasha went over to her husband and put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay, Donald?"

"Yeah… My stomach just hurts and I hate throwing up."

"Hang in there, honey." She kissed his head. "You'll be fine. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna get Chase's release papers." She left.

Emily came out of the bathroom, all in new clothes. "Ah. I feel better, refreshed, and… less gross." She received stares. "Anyway, how're you feeling, Daddy?"

"Yucky. The nurse said I have a bug."

Adam, being Adam, said, "Mr. Davenport has a bug in his tummy?! We gotta get it out!" He charged at Donald and Donald ran.

He stopped and turned around. "Adam, stop! I don't have a bug in my tummy." Adam stopped. "It just means that my stomach doesn't feel good… and it makes me feel yucky."

"Ohhh. Well, you could've clarified that." _Seriously?_

They all laughed. Chase did laugh, which resulted in a coughing fit. Donald went over and rubbed his back. After about minute of coughing, Chase fell back into the pillow. He put a hand to his throat. "Ow. It hurts."

"I know, Chase. I know. But you'll be fine in a couple days."

"Great. I have to suffer for a couple more days."

"Well, I'm not a doctor, but I'm putting you on strict vocal rest for the next couple days."

"What?!"

He kissed Chase's head. "Starting now." Chase crossed his arms and sighed.

"Hey… No Chase telling us what to do for a couple days. Awesome!" said Adam. Chase glared at him. "I mean… You'll be better in no time, buddy."

Chase rolled his eyes. He thought, _"If my throat wasn't killing me, you'd be in trouble."_ Everyone just laughed at his look.

He got to go home the same day, which he was excited about, and After a few days, Chase was back to being the sweet, lovable, know-it-all that he is… or thinks he is anyways.


	2. Glasses

**I DO NOT OWN LAB RATS.**

 **Glasses**

Donald was at his desk reading and Tasha was cleaning up from dinner. Donald rubbed at his eyes as if he was tired and couldn't keep them open. "Donald, sweetie, are you okay?"

"Mmm?" He looked up and looked straight. "Oh, yeah. I'm fine."

"I'm over here."

He looked over to the kitchen area, where his wife was. "I'm fine." He continued reading his book and rubbed at his eyes again.

"Are you sure you're okay, Donald?"

"Yeah. My eyes are just tired."

"Why don't you go to bed? Take an early night. Maybe you'll feel better in the morning."

He closed his book and stood up. "Thanks, honey. Maybe I will."

He kissed Tasha and she noticed something. "Donald?"

"Yeah?"

"Never mind."

He nodded and went upstairs. On the way to his and Tasha's room, he was seeing double of everything, and he didn't know why. _"Could I be getting sick? No. I just got over the flu."_ He went in and stripped out of everything but his underwear. He put a t-shirt on, climbed into bed, and fell asleep.

Around 3 a.m., Donald got up and went to the bathroom. When he went back to his room, he tripped and fell. Tasha woke up startled and she leaned over the bed to find him on the floor. "Donald? Are you okay?"

"Yeah… Yeah," he said as he rubbed his head. As he was standing up, he said, "I guess I must've tripped over my feet."

"All right. Just, please watch where you're going."

"Got it." He wrapped one arm around her and went back to sleep.

When 7 o'clock came, Tasha was getting ready for the day while Donald was still sleeping. She went over and gently shook her husband. "Donald, wake up."

All she got in response was him pulling the blankets tighter around him. She sighed and figured what would get him up. It always does. She sat on the bed, cupped his face with both hands, and kissed him That did it. His eyes shot open and he returned it. She stopped. "That… was awesome! I'm up now."

Tasha smiled, satisfied with herself. "I knew that would get you up."

"Yes it did." He rubbed his eyes again.

"Donald, do your eyes still hurt?"

"Yes. It feels like they're gonna pop out of my skull."

She held his head still and looked into his eyes. "Your pupils are huge. Can you see?" She waved her hand in front of his face.

"Of _course_ I can see."

She held up two fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

He squinted and tried as hard as he could. "3... No… 5… No… 4… No… 10."

"That's it. Today, I'm taking you to the eye doctor."

He sighed. "Fine."

A couple hours later, Tasha and Donald were in one of the exam rooms at the eye doctor's. He was in the exam chair. "Tasha, I told you I'm fine. I can see just fine. I don't need to be here."

"Yes, you do. For the past month, you've been complaining about headaches and you've been constantly rubbing at your eyes. You couldn't even see how many fingers I was holding up."

"Which was?"

"Two."

"I knew that." Tasha rolled her eyes and turned her phone down before putting it back in her purse.

A doctor came in and closed the door. "Hi. I'm Dr. John Taylor." He walked over and sat on his stool.

"I'm Tasha and this is Donald."

"Nice to meet you." He looked over the papers that were filled out. "Okay. According to this, you've been having headaches and eye pain." He looked up at Donald.

"That's not true."

"I'm sorry. My husband doesn't _like_ to admit when something's wrongwith him."

"I understand. It's just a natural response for anyone." He rolled over to Donald and got in front of him. "Okay, Donald. I'm going to check to determine how well you can see."

"All right, but you won't find anything. My vision is fine."

"I just wanna make sure." Donald nodded. "Okay. Now, cover your right eye and try to read what's on the chart."

"All right." Donald covered his eye and tried reading the chart on the door. "5… E… 7… 3… 9… 2… 8… 1." Dr. Taylor wrote something down.

"Now I'm going test your peripheral vision. Keep your head straight and follow my finger." He slowly moved his finger right and in different directions, but Donald continued looking straight. "All right." He pulled out an otoscope and turned it on. He shined it in Donald's eyes. Donald squinted and shut his eyes. "Okay. Looks like your reaction to light is normal." Dr. Taylor turned the otoscope off and put it back in his pocket. Donald opened his eyes. Dr. Taylor did a couple more tests and when done, said, "Okay. I'm done with the tests."

Donald asked, "Question: why did I have to have eye drops before I came in here?"

"Well, they make the pupils bigger so that eye doctors can have a closer look at the eyes, to check for anything unusual, and find out how to treat them."

"I get it now."

"So what's the verdict on Donald's eyes?" asked Tasha.

"According to my report, he needs glasses."

"What? G-Glasses? Did you say glasses?" asked Donald.

"Yes. A strong prescription by the looks of it."

Tasha said, "Well, if he needs glasses, he needs glasses."

"All right. I'm going to recommend Dr. Nicholas Fraiser. He's a great optician and will get the proper glasses your husband needs. I'm going to go call him." Dr. Taylor left.

"This is a disaster, Tasha!"

"Oh, Donald. Relax. It's not that big a deal."

"Yes. It's a _huge_ deal!"

"Why? Why is it a huge deal?"

"Because… it just is. Donald Davenport does _not wear glasses._ He does not _need_ glasses! I don't _intend_ to have and wear… glasses."

"You are getting glasses and you are going to wear them, whether you like it or not."

"But I won't be handsome anymore!"

She stood up, walked over to him, and placed her hands on his shoulders. "Donald Ryan Davenport, you are the most handsome man I've ever met and fell in love with."

"I can't argue with that."

"And you're still gonna be handsome even when you get your glasses."

"Really?"

"Yes. Very much so."

"Thanks, Tasha."

"You're welcome. Plus, you've given me _a lot_ to work with." He chuckled and they kissed. Dr. Taylor came back in and they departed.

"All right. I called the optician and you're all set. Just give him your prescription and he'll fit you for your glasses."

Tasha took the paper from him. "Thank you, Dr. Taylor." Donald got out of the chair and she led him out of the office.

A while later at the optician's, Donald was getting fitted for his glasses. "All right, Mr. Davenport. You're done getting fitted. Now you can pick what frames you want," said Dr. Fraiser.

Donald muttered, "Oh, what a joy." Tasha nudged him. "Ow!" He rubbed his arm. "All right..." He pointed to some frames in the display case on the wall in front of him. "I pick those blue frames."

"Okay." Dr. Fraiser went over and got the frames Donald picked out. He put them on Donald. "How do they feel?"

"Great. Except they feel like they keep falling down."

Tasha said, "Well, that's because you have a small bridge."

"All right." He took the glasses off and handed them to Dr. Fraiser. "If I _must_ have glasses, I guess I'll have to deal with it."

Tasha rubbed her husband's back and hugged him from behind. "Trust me, honey. This," she kissed his cheek and said, "will be good for you."

"Well, all right. If you insist, then I will."

Dr. Fraiser said, "Great. I'll start working on your glasses."

Donald said to himself, "Fantastic." Tasha smiled and put her arms around him. He smiled too and they kissed. She helped him up and they exited the optician's.

Later that night, they were both in bed. Tasha just drifted off to sleep and Donald just lied there with his arms behind his head. "Tasha?"

She sighed and opened her eyes. "Yes, Donald?"

"Do you think... that I'll be different with glasses?"

"Different?" She sat up. "What do you mean?"

"That I won't be the same Donald that you know and love."

"Of course you'll be the same. What makes you think you'll be different?"

"Well, because I'll look like a nerd." He turned toward her.

"No you won't. You'll still be the same husband that I know and love." She stroked his cheek. "The only difference is that you'll be able to see. Trust me, this'll be a good thing for you... and for me."

"How do you figure for you?"

"Because I won't have to hear you constantly complain about headaches." He smiled and laughed.

"Well, that makes two of us. I don't like having the headaches either."

They both laughed and she kissed his cheek. "Night, sweetie."

"Night." She turned off the lamp on her nightstand and went to sleep. Donald stayed up for a little bit longer until sleep overcame him.

A couple weeks later, Donald's glasses were ready. Both he and Tasha went to go get them. Dr. Fraiser just had to make a few little tweaks to make sure they were a perfect fit. He kept asking Donald if they fit all right and Donald kept saying that they fit fine. After the few little tweaks were made, he and Tasha left the optician's.

At home, Douglas was watching TV. He looked over from his spot on the couch when he heard the front door open. When he saw his brother, he exclaimed, "Hey, it's geek charming!" Donald was wearing his new glasses. He gave Douglas a scowl.

"Knock it off, Douglas," said Tasha as she closed the door.

Douglas tried containing his laughter. "I'm sorry. It's just that– you look ridiculous." He stood up.

"Douglas, enough!"

Donald turned to his wife when she said that, then back to his brother. "Yeah. Why do you gotta be so mean?"

"Look, Donny, I'm just kidding." He put a hand on Donald's shoulder. "Come on, you gotta admit, you do look silly."

Donald sighed. "I know I do... but I didn't have a choice. It was either get glasses, or die from the headaches I've been having."

Douglas patted Donald's shoulder and said, "Yeah, glasses were a good idea." Donald nodded and Douglas went upstairs.

Tasha went upstairs too. Adam, Bree, Chase and Leo came in. "Hey, Mr. Davenport," said Chase.

"Hey, Big D."

Donald turned to them. "Hey guys."

Leo said, "Nice glasses. Where's the geek parade at?"

Chase slapped his arm. "Leo, those are his new glasses to see."

"Ohh." He turned back to Donald. "I am so sorry, Big D. That was so insensitive of me."

"It's okay, Leo. I know I look weird. I don't take offense to what you said."

"All right. Anyway, is it okay if me, Adam, Bree and Chase go to the movies?"

Donald nodded. "Sure."

"Okay. See you later, Big D." He nodded and the kids left. He put his head in his hands and sighed.

A little while later, Donald was on the couch watching TV when Tasha came in. "Hey, Donald."

He looked over to her. "Hey, honey." He turned his attention back to the screen.

"So... is everything okay, Donald? Can you see better?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess. To be fair, I could see fine before. I'm fine. I don't need these glasses."

"Really?" Donald nodded. "Okay, then." She grabbed one of the big poster boards that the kids used for their strike and wrote something on it in big letters. "Okay, Donald. Stand up and take your glasses off." He did so. She held up the poster and said, "Okay, Donald. Can you read this?"

"Psh, yeah. No problem." He squinted and tried reading. "Dona- if- a-"

Tasha sighed. "It says 'DONALD IS BEING A JERK.'"

"Oh."

She shook her head. "Donald, put your glasses back on."

He sighed. "Fine." He put them back on.

"See, Donald? You _do_ need your glasses."

"But I'm not the same Donald anymore."

"Donald, you're still the same. The only thing different is that you can see."

He sighed. "I guess."

She went up and put a hand on his shoulder. "I _know._ " They kissed and hugged.


End file.
